


baby hold on to me

by Peaterparker



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Steve's Pov, They love each other so much, guys they like really love each other, not s3 compliant, they have a house a pool and a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peaterparker/pseuds/Peaterparker
Summary: It's a well known fact that Steve loves Billy.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair
Comments: 6
Kudos: 90





	baby hold on to me

**Author's Note:**

> took a small break from my other fic for this bc these losers just love each other so much :')

It’s a well known fact that Steve loves Billy. In fact, every person they’ve ever connected with, whether individually or as a couple, could tell just how much Steve loves Billy within the first five minutes of the interaction. He’s obvious about it, fully believes that Billy still needs someone to be overly obvious about it, even after all of these years. He most certainly loves Billy’s body. He’s loved Billy’s body since they were teenagers, fooling around in the backseat of the Camaro. He’s loved Billy’s body since they were mid-twenty and drinking beer constantly and fighting over dirty socks on the floor. He’s loved Billy’s body since they were thirty and the edges that used to be so rough, the planes and juts of his stomach and hips, all softened. Billy got insecure of the rolls of his hips, the jiggle in his arm when he used his hands dramatically, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Steve especially loves the weight Billy gained in his ass. 

But Steve himself hasn’t changed all that much, weirdly. He thanks his Ma’s Greek genes for him not turning into the physical replication of his dad. He’s still lanky, his stomach is a little saggy from how hard he used to clench those same muscles while swimming. His legs are still lean, his thighs shake a little more while he’s walking now but Billy thinks it’s hot to see him “strutting” like that so he thinks it’s alright for now. He turned 40 a month and a half ago and he still feels mid-twenty so he thinks he’s winning in life so far. They’ve both cut their hair, Billy kept his hair longer on top and Steve fucking loves curling his fingers through it while they’re relaxing on the couch after they’ve both gotten home from work. 

That’s another thing that Steve loves. Their home. Theirs. Together, their lives put together so beautifully that Steve smiles every morning before Billy manages to crawl from bed. His knees will creak and they both wake with sore backs but the warm beige walls hold frames of pictures of a lifetime of happiness that warms Steve to his core. All of their failures, triumphs and changes are catalogued in knick-knacks, pictures, awards and throw blankets. The throw blankets have become a more recent thing in part to their furry companion-- Harrison. The orange tabby with bright green eyes was Billy’s idea. Well, he found Harrison outside of the shop one night and Steve was never one to have a strong face against Billy’s warm eyes and a pitifully mewling alley cat. So, throw blankets were gifts from Max when she and Billy eventually had a blow up. She knew giving something for Harrison would warm Billy over immediately and then they could talk. 

Lucas thinks it’s hilarious that Max keeps giving them throw blankets, that Billy hasn’t gotten sick of getting throw blankets. For Christmas, Dustin had gotten them a Star Wars set of food and water bowls. Billy pretended he didn’t get the reference to Harrison’s name, for the third year in a row, until Dustin threw pumpkin pie in his face. It took three weeks to clean cranberry sauce stains from the five hundred dollar rug his mom gave him as a house warming present. He figured since they’d all severely grown up that they’d be able to have one civilized holiday meal together. He was always wrong. 

They haven’t talked about kids since Billy’s thirty-fifth birthday. They’d gotten too drunk and it caused an argument, even though they were actually agreeing with each other they just couldn’t slow down and hear each other out. They had decided kids might be better when they felt more stable. They’d been together for seventeen years at that point, had moved six times and Billy hadn’t opened his mechanic shop yet. They were mostly relying on Steve’s income at the time and when his dad passed, Billy got an entire will he never expected to have anything to do with. Max was left a few thousand dollars, Sue the house, but Billy got his truck and his insurance policy. He tried, several times, to give it all to Susan. He felt sick about it, that his dad would leave the son he never loved everything and the wife he cherished more than life just a house that they were still paying a mortgage on. It had pissed Max off which had pissed Billy off and resulted in Susan getting involved enough to make them both feel shameful. During that time it wasn’t throw blankets, it was doctor’s visits to hear their niece’s heartbeats. 

So they bought a house. Then Billy started a business. Harrison had a kingdom to prowl and peasants to serve him his every wish. Max and Lucas welcomed Lillian. They don’t talk about kids again until Billy’s 40th birthday. Lilly is five, a total princess and spoiled by Billy entirely. Steve gets a complex watching Billy with Lilly, he can easily see them sliding into parenthood graciously. Watching Billy, holding the girl’s tiny hand in his massive one, guide Lilly through the small fruit garden they’ve began and explaining each fruit to her just melts his heart. She’s a bug and dirt kid, an almost exact replica of how Max was as a kid. Her curly brown hair that Lucas braids for her, which was not missed by Billy and eventually Lucas made the time to show him how to plait her hair tightly, is loose in pigtails for the summer. Her wide brown and green eyes take in Billy’s every movement with a wonder so great, the soft smattering of freckles across her nose that resemble Billy’s own. 

He thinks they could do it, be fathers together. Until, of course, his own dad passes away. He gets a letter in the mail from his dad’s receptionist, his own mother is away on a family visit out of the country and he sputters at the cost of international calls before he decides fuck it and calls anyways. His parents had been separated since he was fifteen, he lived with his mom through high school but she picked up a job at a senior center two towns over and created a life separate from Steve as well. One night after his thirtieth birthday she had called him, wine drunk and emotional, sobbing about how sorry she was that she couldn’t love him the way a mother should have loved her son. That his failures are her failures and she misses him more than words can describe. 

She’s silent after he tells her, he thinks they might’ve gotten disconnected but then she takes a deep breath and asks him what he needs to hear. He nearly hangs up on her. The funeral, that he had no part in planning despite numerous attempts, is in Chicago which is only forty-five minutes away. He begs off Billy coming with him, already dreading how painfully awkward it’s going to be, and faces his half-siblings and technical step-mom alone. They don’t look at him twice, Janet’s eyes flashing to the gold band on his finger with disgust and Daniel with an eye roll. Melissa even pats his back during the speeches made by the children his father gave his time and love to but hushes over her kids when they sob about it after. The only people at the funeral that even know who Steve is are his dad’s old business partners that haven’t seen him since he was as tall as where their knees rest. It gets old fast. 

He’s stuck in his head, thinking how could he ever be a father when he never had a present father. Thinking how could he give love and knowledge to a tiny being when he never experienced that himself. How could he raise something when he was raised by nature instead of nurture. How he could give so much of himself to something that needs much more than he has and still give more. He breaks down and buys a pack of Camels. He doesn’t smoke in the car, can’t handle the smell sticking in anything other than his clothes. It’s been nearly twenty years since he and Billy both quit smoking. He’s crying in a Chevron parking lot over a pack of cigarettes before an old familiar face passes by. 

Tommy got fat, to put it simply. Carol divorced him five years ago and Tommy just lost passion for life after. He lost a lot more than that, but losing his spirit hurt the most. They talk about things they’ve done in life, Tommy has three daughters and a son, he works in a factory and gets paid living wages with good benefits but he’s tired and sore all the time. Carol became a teacher and they moved to Chicago where she teaches lower income students. That kinda scared Steve, remembering exactly how Carol was in high school, but Tommy insists that she loves her job and her students. That making a space that’s safe for them is more accomplishing than teaching them anything. 

It’s dark by the time he gets home, the lights from inside spilling out onto the lawn brightly. He stares up at the two story house from inside the car, doesn’t know how long he spends just watching the house before Billy pokes his head out with a furrow to his brow. Steve turns the car off as Billy steps out, opens the door when Billy knocks on the window. He takes a deep, shuddering breath at Billy’s soft “oh, baby, what happened?” Steve shakes his head once, sets his jaw and Billy brings him inside with warm hands and soft words. They bypass the living room and head straight to the kitchen, Harrison tripping Billy up with a pitiful chirp. Once Steve’s poured himself into one of the barstools Billy loosens his tie for him and rubs his shoulders. Dinner’s simmering on the stove, a vegetable soup that Billy has perfected over the years and Steve loves almost as much as he loves his partner. The television is on in the background, whatever sitcom Billy had left it on with an obnoxious laugh track.

He tells Billy everything, like he always does, breaks it down in bite sized pieces of where the hurt had hurt the most. And Billy listens, raptly, like he always does. Reminds Steve he’s worth more than any deadbeat dad could ever be, picks up the pieces Steve is throwing down and reorganizes them to fit perfectly. Billy laces their fingers together in a way that has Steve looking at their matching rings, not legal but still just as official. Something they keep for themselves and the people that love them. Their hands look good together, Billy’s hands have small cuts and bruises, carefully manicured to keep the car grease from lingering, whereas Steve’s fingers are long and thin, knuckles standing in sharp relief from typing all day long. 

Billy knows Steve so well, almost too well, enough to have Steve’s comfort sweater and sweatpants lying across the foot of the bed for him when he decides to take a shower to wash the mourning scent off. The green cashmere feels so soft on his shoulders that he sighs in content before heading back downstairs to find his man. Billy’s switched the television off and the radio on, old songs from their teenage years playing and bringing back memories. They drink the wine they were saving for the next weekend barbecue with the party and their gaggle of children, Billy had been keeping an eye on the pool like a fucking hawk for the first tinge of green that he was putting their pool service out of business. 

The song that was playing in the Camaro the first time Billy had told Steve that he loves him starts and Steve closes his eyes and smiles through the intro. He blinks himself back to reality when Billy runs a hand over his shoulder, down his arm and clasps his hand. He’s softly singing the words as he’s pulling Steve from his chair. They’re halfway to wine drunk, giggling and singing to each other, swaying to Eddie Money. Steve’s got one hand on Billy’s shoulder, the other playing with the growth of hair on the back of his head and he’s warm. He can’t stop looking into Billy’s eyes and smiling, the kisses growing warmer and warmer, the love between them overflowing. They’re nose to nose and still grinning at each other, he bumps Billy’s cheek with his nose before sighing and pulling back to see all of his man’s face. 

“Love you my entire existence, Stevie.” It’s something that Billy says often, with words and gestures and touches. He’s home, in the arms of the man who he loves the most and who loves him just as much. He’s home, he’s warm, he’s loved. They’ve fought tooth and nail for this life, left many parts of who they were behind for just a shred of what they’ve got now. But he doesn’t feel like he’s missing much when Billy takes his hand from his shoulder and spins Steve in their kitchen, laughter bubbling from their lips while Steve slides in his socks. 

They talk about kids again that night. It’s finally something they agree upon now.


End file.
